Chelsie scoffed. “And you’re lettingJuliuspick?”
“He’s done an excellent job so far,” Bob pointed out. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”
Chelsie snapped her mouth shut. Julius didn’t know what to say, either. Personally, he was with Chelsie. “But what do I do?”
“I already told you,” Bob said, his voice growing serious. “Be yourself.”
Julius grit his teeth. This again. “But—”
“Just because I’m a seer doesn’t mean I’ve given up being a dragon,” Bob reminded him. “Estella might have stolen my pieces and turned the board sideways, but I’m not out of the game yet. Speaking of, I have to go. I’m about to be late for an appointment.”
“Bob!” Chelsie cried. “Don’t youdarehang up on—”
The phone clicked.
***
On the other side of the world, Bob switched off his phone and threw it as hard as he could into the neat rows of rice paddies that covered both sides of the fertile Yangtze River Valley in central China. Like everything over the last two days, ditching his phone was a risk, but as he’d just reminded his brother, being a seer didn’t mean he’d forgotten how to be a dragon. Estella’s greatest weakness had always been that she trusted the future over everything else, even her own common sense. She’d assumed that he, like her, would be crippled without his sight. But Brohomir was as much the son of the Heartstriker as he was a seer. For all his mother’s shortcomings, lack of audacity had never been one of them.
And Estella wasn’t the only one who could cheat.
“If you can’t change the game, change the rules,” he said to his pigeon, who’d ridden the whole way here on his shoulder. “Speaking of, you’d better make yourself scarce. My host is old fashioned. He won’t appreciate you like I do.”
The bird tilted her head at him, and then she took off, flying up into the clear sky. Bob watched her go until she was a speck in the distance before resuming his climb, vaulting up the ancient stone steps two at a time as he scaled the steep bank to the gate of an elegant country manor that looked like it had been built directly into the hillside before the invention of writing.
Despite its obvious age, the two-story residence was in excellent repair with its paper shutters thrown open to the early fall breeze. Bob was still making his way across the tree-shaded courtyard when the front door slid open, and a young-looking Chinese man with long, braided black hair wearing a silk coat older than most dragons stepped out to greet him.
“Let me guess,” Bob said in his best Mandarin. “You were expecting me?”
“Since last month,” the Black Reach replied in perfect English, looking him up and down with silver eyes that would never pass for human. “Welcome, Brohomir, Great Seer of the Heartstrikers, Consort to a Nameless End.”
It wasn’t often Bob heard that last title. Never, actually, before this moment. But it came up often in the future, which was where his host spent most of his time. “May I come in?”
The Black Reach nodded and stepped away from the door. “I’ve already poured your tea.”
Bob didn’t see the point. They both already knew why he’d come. But it was never wise to refuse an old dragon’s offer of hospitality, and the tea herewasthe best in the world. That was as good a reason as any, so Bob plastered a smile on his face and stepped inside the ancient seer’s den, shutting the door firmly behind him.
And down the path, unnoticed, his still ringing phone sank deeper into the muddy water of the rice paddy.
***
“Ihateit when he does that!” Chelsie hissed, dialing Bob’s number for what had to be the fiftieth time.
“And I don’t see why you’re upset,” Amelia said, taking a long chug off her whiskey bottle. “You’ve lived with Bob your whole life. Surely you must be used to riddles and half-truths by now?”
“That doesn’t mean I like them,” Chelsie snapped, though she did finally put the phone down. “How can you be so calm about this?”
“Easy,” Amelia said with a grin. “I’m drunk. You should try it sometime. You clearly need a better coping mechanism.”
Chelsie glared daggers at her. “That’s the worst advice I’ve ever heard.”
“Never said I was a role model,” Amelia replied with a shrug. “Seriously, though, you need to chill. I’ve known Brohomir since he hatched. He never loses.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Chelsie reminded her.
“I suppose,” she said. “But if you’re right, and thisisBob’s turn to fail, then we’re all doomed to be hopelessly chained to Estella’s whims. I’m not particularly fond of Brohomir’s seer-ish antics either, but I’d rather dance to his tune than resign myself to being Estella the Northern Bore’s puppet.”
Chelsie didn’t seem willing to argue with that. “So what do we do now?”
